Forget-Me-Nots
by poopingaround
Summary: Something is wrong. After an accident that affected the lives of many people, mysterious things are beginning to rise up. Why is Arthur the only one who can remember such a tragic accident? What lies behind the secrets build up by this mysterious organization? Pairs include: USUK, FrancexJoan of Arc, Sufin; others to be determined later on.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Arthur breathed in deep as he sat in the comfy grey chair. He lightly scratched his fingers against the leather. His grey sweater was slightly wrinkled and the mis-buttoned shirt underneath matched his level of mental disorganization. He picked at the couch again and scratched the side of his messy-unbushed-unwashed head of hair. The room he was in was purely dull grey. The bookcase was grey with grey books; the window felt grey with grey curtains. Everything seemed grey to him. It had been that way for a while now. He frowned and took another deep breath. The man across from him tapped his pencil lightly. He wasn't so grey looking. He had a blue sweater on with light brown kakis. He's blonde hair was brush neatly as he had a pleasant smile on his face. He almost seemed like he was waiting for Arthur's mind catch up with the situation they were in. He reached over and drank one sip of coffee before speaking. He was only one who had coffee during these times. Arthur preferred and always had tea.

"So," he said in a soothing tone, "How are you today?"

"I'm," Arthur paused to pull at a loose sting, "better I suppose, Tino."

Tino smiled lightly. "How long has it been since your loss?"

Arthur looked up at him warily. "You want me to guess, again?" he said his eyes closing. He leaned back and rubbed his forehead. "Nine months, 2 weeks, three days." He opened his eyes slowly. "I can tell you the hour and minute if you want as well."

Tino wrote something on his paper. "No," he said finishing up, "That'll be fine." He evenly uncrossed then recrossed his legs. "How long did you spend in the drawer compared to last time?"

Arthur flinched slightly at the mention. He closed his eyes in recall. He could remember himself jamming the thin brass key into the top dresser drawer and pulling out the last reminisces he had; smelling them, feeling them, being comforted by them. His hands digging further into the wooden drawer, scratching around to find an old book, feeling the photos inside of what his life was like before. He gave the same deep sigh he had been giving all afternoon.

"It's very hard to tell how long…" Arthur said after a moment.

"Just give it your best guess."

"I would say at least less than a half an hour per day."

Tino seemed to be happier about this. "Ah, good!" he placed his pad down next to his coffee. Arthur seemed disgruntled by the happy tone his therapist was showing him. Tino sense the hesitation and his smile dampened a bit. "I know you're still mourning, but in time your memory will let it all come to rest. You have a very good memory Arthur and these things just take time."

He gave a pat to Arthur's knee and stood up. Arthur took this as a signal and did the same. He had been coming here far too long for his liking, and he knew when his session was up. He shook hands with Tino before making a swift exit, not bother to say goodbye.

He walked slowly but deliberately to his car on the side of the street. It still felt odd to be driving such a car; one that didn't belong to him. He rubbed his fingers against the key before starting it up and making his way home. He lived in a town house and only occupied two of the five floors that resided in the building. He had been hesitant to move there, but when the idea had been brought up they had taken their chance. Now Arthur lived there with two renters, two brothers, who he occasionally called his friends.

Arthur parked his car and got out. He quickly crossed the busy street and walked up toward his home just as the neighbor who lived below him stepped out.

"Ah! Good morning, Arthur" She said with a smile. Her hair still in a short bob, she had a ribbon to one side. Today it was a lovely blue to match the white dress she wore under a handmade sweater.

Arthur stopped mid-step going up the stairs. He veered back only slightly. "Good morning, Elsie. How are you and your brother?"

She smiled slightly wider at the polite conversation. "Oh same as always, but I must say Arthur, you look very nice today."

Arthur looked down as his unappealing grey sweater.

"I meant your face," Elsie corrected quickly, "You look better."

Arthur gave her a small smile. "Thank you. We should," He paused slightly, "have tea sometime… like we used to."

"Oh yes," she nodded, "we should, just like old times." There seemed to be a moment of silence between them but with a small wave she ended the conversation and made her way down the street.

Arthur waited a few moments, watching her go, before climbing up the steps to the front door his apartment building. When he got in all he could do was smile at himself. He must have been getting better. What an odd feeling.

His smile was wiped away, however, as he heard the clanking of someone cleaning. He walked down the entry way into the living room to find and ill-tempered man attempting to clean. His hair tied in a tight pony-tail while his sleeves were rolled up. Next to him, stood his brother his cropped dark hair held back with one headband.

Arthur knocked on the wall as he entered the living room. Both men turned around startled.

"Aiya! Arthur! I didn't even know you were home," the pony-tailed one exclaimed, holding up the vacuum hose.

"I just got home, actually, Yao" Arthur said slowly. He nodded the other's brother. "Hi, Kiku." The man gave a similar nod. Yao still wasn't amused. He was about to complain when Arthur interrupted him, "Do you mind if I make dinner tonight?"

Yao looked shocked into a silence stare. Kiku seemed uncomfortable. "I don't think…" Yao started, "You're still…"

"I'm perfectly fine." Arthur corrected, "I want to cook is all."

Yao sighed conflicted about the rehabilitation of a friend and the inner bowel turmoil at stake. But Arthur hadn't wanted to cook in so long. It was nice to see this change even though it was unwanted. For tonight, He supposed he would risk the stomach ache, just for tonight.

"I suppose that's fine," Kiku beat him to the punch; he must have felt the same way.

Arthur cracked a small smile. He nodded before wondering off into the house. Kiku glanced at his brother, who still had a shocked, glazed look on his face. "Well that was unexpected," he commented softly.

* * *

After a sending his housemates out to get what they needed for dinner, Arthur sat at his desk, his laptop open. It had been awhile since he had done any actual work and he still typed slightly slower than how he had originally. He scanned over the papers he had and glance at the computer. He loved his editing job, but lately it had been hard to focus. The worst thing was that he knew why.

He worked for as long as he could. It didn't last long.

He couldn't do it. He felt restless. His hands twitched for what he knew he wanted. His life was getting better, but why did it still hurt so bad. He stood up quickly and practically ran out the room. His housemates had left to get food for dinner. There was nobody home. This was the perfect time. He ran to the kitchen and stood on the tips of his toes to reach the top of the refrigerator. He grabbed the safety deposit box and dialed in the combination with a hast that seemed crazy. He popped open the top and pulled out the brass key.

It was only for a moment. He was only going to sit for a moment.

He gripped the key tight as he ran to his room. To the side of his room was an unused dresser that served for only one purpose. His fingers trembled as he ran them over the key hole. He shakily put the key in and opened the drawer. It took a moment but he felt the surge of tears creak over the tops of his eye lids. He took his time. First with the photo album, he pulled it out gently. He opened it and ran his fingers over the photos of himself with another man. The other was taller than Arthur, thicker too. He smiled a silly grin in every picture. His blonde hair with its annoying cowlick, and his blue eyes with its deep hue. They looked so lively when they were in pictures with Arthur. They were in different places; sometimes outside, sometimes inside. They were all over the map. It made Arthur chock out a sob when he got to the last page. Not a picture but an article. Something he kept to remind himself. The familiar headline of "Six Dead in Single Plane Crash" was all he could take before he closed the album.

He lastly pulled out the same familiar boomer jacket before sobbing. The brought it up to his nose to smell the lasting familiar scent. "Alfred," He whispered in between is quiet sobs. He hugged the leather to his face. "I miss you."

He felt his body weak, him as a whole seemed to be crying. He shook slightly and tried his hardest to not do what he had done in the initial weeks. He was supposed to be getting _better_. Alfred wasn't here anymore, he wasn't supposed to miss him this terribly.

He quieted himself the best he could before putting the jacket back where it belonged. With a final sigh, Arthur closed the drawer and locked it. He made his way back to the kitchen. He put the key back where it belong and headed to the living room, not feeling much like working anymore. He walked to one of the walls and grabbed the first interesting book he could find and sat down on the couch. Nothing to do but wait until Kiku and Yao got home.

It didn't take long.

Kiku and Yao had returned with more food than for just three people, but Arthur didn't mind. He helped them put the bags in the kitchen. After unloading foods and what seemed to be a large supply of stomach medicine, Arthur gave his attempt to cook. It was dreadful, but they still enjoyed the night.

It wasn't until Arthur was doing dishes that he noticed the extra wine. He didn't have much use for anymore; he didn't drink anymore. It made him forget. And as much as everybody wanted him to, Arthur didn't want to forget. He slowly took the wine and poured it out. The thought made him remember something. He smiled at Yao who was drying the last of the plates.

"I'm going to go out," Arthur said casually.

Yao didn't even look up from drying, "Okay."

Arthur put the dish rag down and unrolled his sleeves. He reached for the closest jacket by the door and walked out. He breathed out and could see the cold air in front of him. He couldn't understand how it became so cold at night. He briskly walked down the steps and around the corner. Not too far from his home was a place where Arthur used to do with Alfred. They had many memories there. Things Arthur could only live through in his mind now.

He walked past the field where they had had their first date. It had been a picnic and it was terrible. The bugs were everywhere, Alfred had forgotten eating utensils, and he had been so nervous that he had spilled juice all over Arthur's pants. Although it was terrible and Arthur spent many days trying to get the stain out, it had probably the best date Arthur had ever had. Although now all he could to was sigh at the memory. He tried not to think about it too much as he pressed on through the park. The closer he got the more he could hear it.

The sound of the swings.

He walked up the slight bump of a hill to find the same person he found every night. The same bottle hanging from his hands as he mumbled to himself. Every time the bottle tipped he would bring it up for another swig. His clothes were not ratty but they seemed thrown on in a hurry and his hair was just about everywhere. Arthur paused before speaking. This type of thing was always the hardest.

"Francis, it's late," He said slowly approaching the man, "You should go home."

The man looked up slowly. He squinted then smiled. "I don't usually do men, but I guess you'll do."

Arthur sighed. De walked around and took a seat next to him on the swing. "Do you even know who I am?"

Francis laughed hard. It was painful to hear and even more painful to watch him almost fall. "Of course I do!" he scoffed. "You're…" He sat for a moment and stared at Arthur. His face was almost blank but he was trying to think. "Okay who are you?"

Arthur sighed. "I'm Arthur. You and your wife, Joan, always had dinner with me and my fiancé. They…." Arthur paused and swallowed shallowly, "they boarded the same plane together."

Francis looked at him confused. "Uh… but I'm not married."

England frowned hard. "We talked about this yesterday. Yes you are!" he said harshly, "You and your wife wanted a baby remember? You had just bought a bloody house down the street from mine the same week I was moving in! We even had a public fight about it and your wife clocked me in the jaw for giving you a black eye!"

Francis stared at him for a long time. When the drool started to fall, England knew this was lost cause. He threw up his hands in frustration. "Alright," he said standing, "Time to go home." He reached down and with a little bit of struggle managed to get Francis standing. "You know… this is very ironic," he said dragging off his forgotten friend who slumped on his shoulder.

* * *

**This whole thing occurred because I wanted to practice writing something depressing... then it just got longer and longer... I should be working on other stories... oh well~**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

"_Arthur, look you have got to see it."_

_Arthur felt a hand wrap around his and pull him over to the window. He looked out the window as a plane landed on the strip. It was beautiful and shined brightly in the afternoon sun. Although Alfred was overly-excited, Arthur frowned._

"_That thing looks dangerous," Arthur said bluntly._

"_Ah come one Artie," Alfred combats with a sigh, "It's just a plane! I thought you were happy that I was going?"_

_Arthur couldn't help but crack a small smile at the mention of Alfred's accomplishment. He lightly punched Alfred in the arm with his free hand. "Oh shut it! Of course I'm happy you're helping people but I'm not happy your leaving me." Arthur sub-consciously squeezed his hand. The action made Alfred pull him into a sudden hug. It was so surprising Arthur's hands got caught between their chests. He struggled lightly. _

"_What are you doing you idiot?" he said giving in and rest his head on Alfred's shoulder. _

"_Comforting you, of course," Alfred said nonchalantly._

"_You're only going to be gone for three months," Arthur countered lightly. _

_Alfred pulled back with a shocked look on his face. He kept his arms around Arthur but let Arthur's hands free. "That's like," he took a shocked pause, "A quarter of a year!"_

_Arthur held back a laugh, but his smile didn't falter. "Oh, what am I going to do without you?" he said pretending to faint. _

_Alfred laughed loudly. "I don't know but… when I get back I'm gonna marry you!"_

_Arthur pulled back completely. The ability to comprehend English was suddenly lost as his eyebrows rose in surprise "W-what?" he stuttered out. "And would you at least use proper English!" Alfred did nothing but laugh, before he spoke again. He leaned forward and took Arthur's hands slowly. His smile slowly lifted into a silly grin. _

"_I want to marry you Arthur."_

Arthur sat across the room from Toni in a relaxed silence. He must have spaced out for a moment. The room felt a little less grey then he had remembered.

"So, yesterday I made dinner," Arthur said with a small smile, "They seemed to have enjoyed the night."

Toni smiled behind his mug. "How has your living arrangement been, by the way?"

"Good," Arthur responded simply.

"No fighting?"

"None that I can call an argument," Arthur said with a dry shrug, "Just the simple 'who is going to pick up Kiku?' type arguments."

Tino laughed slightly. "Always have to watch out for the kid of the house," he commented idly.

"Yeah," Arthur said staring about the room. He paused before slipping out, "You have kids don't you?"

Tino nodded before writing something quickly on his notepad, "Remember Arthur, I ask the questions."

Arthur rolled his eyes. This always seemed to happen. "I know, I know." Arthur leaned toward the coffee table next to the chair. The costar was there but the usually cup of tea was missing. He touched it lightly, with confusion on his face. Arthur looked behind him to see if it was on the shelf behind him, but it wasn't. He did a quick look under his chair, before siting up and giving a confused start to Tino.

"Hey," Arthur said placing his hand over the costar, "Where is my tea?"

Tino looked up at him and raise an equally confused eyebrow. "What?"

"I had my tea…"

"Not today," Tino said still confused, but kept it below a calm exterior.

"No I mean," Arthur slightly stumbled, "I just had some."

Tino shook his head slowly. "No, you didn't. I offered but you declined today," He calmly like he always did, "Don't you remember you had it last time, but not today."

Arthur gave him a confused stare. He almost felt lost, like he had forgotten how he had gotten there.

Tino placed his notepad down. "Memory is a scary thing."

Arthur seemed a little irritated as he leaned forward a bit, "But I can still taste the tea. I know I had tea today."

Tino leaned forward as well. He brought his cup forward and rested it both hands. "You smelt the tea I was having today and manufactured a memory and a taste; that's all," he took a sip slowly, "You have a great memory, Arthur, but sometimes the mind needs help letting things go."

Arthur stared at him for a moment. He looked around the room for a moment the spoke, "You expect me to let go of Alfred?"

Tino didn't say anything. He leaned back, a little wary. "Do you ever feel like you fabricated some things about Alfred? Maybe add to the memories?"

Arthur stared at him. "That's not very funny," He said expecting the joke to come to an end, "Why would I do something like that?"

* * *

The room was empty and the sound of computer keys being clicked was the only sound that comforted Arthur. He had been trying his best to get his work done and for most of the day he hadn't gone in the drawer. Not that he needed to. But he had a craving. He wanted to go into the room and lay in Alfred's jacket for a few minutes. It must have been all the work. All the papers on his desk read that he needed to edit them and he had barely done any of it.

Arthur paused in typing and gave a sigh. He needed to get this done. He could lay with Alfred when he was done; like a reward, for his good efforts. Arthur nodded. He liked that idea.

In the back of the house he could hear the clanking and clamoring of Yao deep cleaning. Yao poked his head into the office with a smile.

"How's the cleaning going?" Arthur said not looking away from one of the papers.

"Almost done!" Yao said proudly, "Could you do me a favor?" Arthur fully looked away from the paper he was reading now. "Could you go and pick up Kiku from the library. I would go but I'm a mess…"

Arthur gave a weak smile, "Yeah I suppose I can go." He wouldn't take very long anyways. He could still spend time with Alfred after.

Arthur took the keys and left the house. He walked out the door and was about to go to his car when he realized it wasn't his. The man in the cab looked up at Arthur as he approached him unsure.

"Uh," Arthur said glancing around, "I thought I left my car here?"

The driver gave him the same confused look. "Sorry, no car was here this morning…" he said slowly, "What's your look like?"

Arthur scratched the back of his head and whipped his palms. "It's a red 1990s Sedan, I think?" Arthur knew nothing about cars, and the one he drove now had belonged to Alfred.

The man cracked a smile and pointed a little down the road of where Arthur lived. Not even a couple feet. Arthur looked on with a sigh of relief and hidden confusion.

"Is okay," The man called out, "I forget all the time."

Arthur nodded before crossing the street a second time back to his car. As he put the key into the ignition he realized for a second time he still had not had his moment with the dresser. He supposed he could do it when he got back. It's not like it was going anywhere. He had time.

He made his way across town to see Kiku sitting in front of the steps of library. The sun had already started to set by the time Arthur arrived there. They only owned two cars, and Kiku still didn't have his license so this sort of situation happened often. Kiku opened the side door and climbed in. He wasn't much of a talker.

"How was the library?" Arthur said of a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence.

Kiku didn't look up from the manga he had been reading. "Fine."

"Are you reading one of those," Arthur tapped his hand in memory but failed when trying to think of what to say, "comic books you and Alfred liked to read?"

Kiku raised dark eyebrow. "Alfred?" he paused for a moment, "Who's Alfred?"

Arthur let out a short painful laugh. "What do you mean 'who's Alfred'?" he said gripping the wheel a little tight, "You two have lived in the same place for a long time. You used to play those video games together and talk about those cartoons."

"It's called anime," Kiku corrected, "And I don't know who you're talking about."

Arthur looked at him at for a moment before going back to watching the road. "Are you trying to joke around?" he said, his voice very even.

"I don't joke very often," Kiku said idly, "I don't know who you're talking about. Maybe it's a coworker you're thinking of."

Arthur almost slammed on the breaks, but he refrained from such a dangerous action. "No," he said squeezing the wheel too tight, "I'll show you a picture when we get home. That'll jog your memory."

Kiku continued to have a puzzled look but quietly when back to reading for the remainder of the ride.

When they got back, Arthur almost jumped out the car and walked up to the door two steps at a time while Kiku took his time. He barged through the door, leaving it open as he disappeared through the house. As he went he left a stunned Yao watching him go. As Kiku made it through the door his brother spoke up.

"What's going on?" he asked as a disgruntled Arthur could be heard.

"He wants to show me Alfred…" Kiku said slowly.

"Oh no…" Yao said with worry before loud screaming started.

"Where is it!?" Arthur cried. Arthur dug through the drawer. It was empty. The jacket had been taken out, along with other things that belonged to Alfred. Bare and empty except for the wood. His eyes scanned over it before he shoved his hand inside. He dug his arm further inside; scratch at the wood in an attempt to feel around. He bumped his hands into the photo album. He pulled it out in a state or panic. He opened the first page.

Empty.

He shook his head and opened the next page.

Empty.

He flipped through all the pages; his breathing speeding up to an unnatural rate. He began to sweat slightly as he felt himself go into a panic. He turned the book upside down and shook it trying to get loose papers out. But nothing came out. He ran out into the living room and threw the book on the floor.

"Where is it?" he demanded.

"What are you talking about?" Yao said glancing down at the empty crumpled book.

"Where are my pictures of Alfred?!" he screamed, "Where is his jacket!?"

"Arthur, listen to me," Yao said nodding his head at Kiku, who left the room quickly. Arthur continued to stand in the room; he couldn't bring himself to move.

"No!" Arthur said shaking but his voice still loud, "Why would you take them out? I was doing so well with the lock! I was fine!"

"Arthur, I-"

"Did you think I wouldn't bloody notice? Is that it?!" Arthur said in disgust. It was too late; the tears were falling, and it was becoming difficult to see. He body was shaking so hard, if he stopped speaking he felt he might vomit. "How dare you pull that shit! Give them back!"

"Arthur," Yao said speaking slowly. He held his hands up to show he was harmless, "I didn't take anything out of the drawer."

"Don't bloody give me that" Arthur yelled throwing his hands up, "You've been deep cleaning all week! You threw them out! Admit it!" he shouted pouting at Yao. "Admit you are trying to take him away from me!"

"Arthur, there was nothing in the drawer to begin with!" Yao said finally yelling just as loud.

That quieted them both. The air hung thick.

"What?" Arthur said slowly.

"There was nothing in the drawer to begin with," Yao repeated, this time at a reasonable volume. He paused slightly before inching is way toward Arthur. Arthur didn't move he just looked at him. "The book was always empty."

Arthur flinched, a bit as Yao touched his elbow. He tried to give Arthur a smile.

"This is real," Yao continued. He was trying as hard as he could to be gently with what he was saying. "You're coming back to us."

"I'm what?" Arthur started, but was interrupted as Kiku came back into the room.

"Dr. Väinämöinen is on his way," Kiku said noticing the tension in the room.

Yao gave Arthur a promising smile. Arthur could do nothing but stare at the ground with a blank expression. All thought had been overwritten with numbness as he slowly made his way to the couch. He didn't even move when he heard the doorbell ring and the tears didn't stop flowing.

* * *

He sat close to Tino; inching away every second he could from the people he lived with; the people he had called his friends. He felt his stomach hurt at the things that were happening to him. He turned to Tino but spoke softly. His tears having made his whole body tired.

"Do you know what they told me?" Arthur managed to speak out.

Tino breathed evenly. He seemed overly calm about the whole situation and he sat with Arthur as though comforting a child. "Yes," he said simply.

There was a pause.

"Are they crazy?" Arthur said even quieter.

Tino tensed a bit. "No," he said.

Arthur looked like a wounded child; tears already brimming back up. "But, Alfred," He breathed out, "My Alfred… he…"

Tino grabbed his hand and patted it softly. He was almost hesitant before the words left his mouth. "There was never an Alfred F. Jones."

Arthur glared at him and quickly took his hand away. "That's impossible," he shot back, "We have been together for five years and he died in a plane crash! How could you not know…?"

Yao spoke up from the where he sat. "Arthur, you were in a crash. You almost died."

Arthur looked at him slowly. He wanted to punch some sense to what was he was being told, but his body hurt too much to move. Tino grabbed his hand again, gently. He patted it, grabbing his attention once again.

"It's called paramnesia," he explained, "It happens all the time. Some people make up entire new lives, with children and friends and…"

"No," Arthur stopped him. "Alfred is alive!" He stood up abruptly, gripping at his shirt. He backed away from them until he was in the center of the room. Tears leaked from the side his face but he paid no mind to them; he wiped them off along with the snot dribbling from his nose. His face felt hot and his sweater now felt itchy and uncomfortable. "Why are you trying to take him away from me!?"

Tino remained calm as he reached over and grabbed one of the photo books Arthur had found previously. "Listen…"

"No!" Arthur screamed, yanking the book away from Tino's hands, "This isn't the right one! He took the pictures away!" To accent his last words he threw the book on the ground. The loud sound resonated through the house.

Tino stood immediately. He didn't show any signs of being afraid, but his voice let out a threat in a dangerous tone. "Arthur, I don't want to have to hospitalize you…"

Arthur stared at the ground. He eyes growing wide at the thought. He breathed deep, his whole body shaking. "No," he said whipping his face again with the back of his sweater. He combed his hands through his hair, making it only worse. "I… I can prove it," he stuttered out. He body shook horribly, but he refused to sit or be guided.

He walked slowly over to his phone. It was an insufferable gadget that his Alfred had taught him how to use. Although in the past months, he hadn't touched it. He put it in the security box and charged it when he wanted to see pictures of Alfred without going to his drawer. Nobody knew about them.

He walked into the kitchen and opened up the box. He pulled out the cell phone slowly and clicked to unlock it. He tried pulling up the pictures, but they had changed. Any picture that had been taken with Alfred was either changed or gone. Nothing was the same.

Arthur's fingers moved frantically from one photo to the next. Each of them making his eyes grow wider.

"Arthur," Tino called from the kitchen doorway.

Arthur hands shook as he gently held the device close. His eyes felt glazed over as he refused to look Tino in the eye. Everything was wrong. He couldn't have made this entire life up.

As they made their way back to the living room, Arthur broke away from Tino. Scratching his hand a bit as he snatched his keys from the table next to the door, he burst out the door. He could hear the sound of footsteps chasing after him. He bounded down the steps and jumped into his car faster than he ever thought possible. Just as he slammed the door shut, Yao and Kiku came out the front door.

Arthur didn't wait. He started up the car and drove off, the tears still falling from his eyes.

* * *

**Wooooooowie... I just got back from Anime Expo and it was so fun but now I am so exhausted. hopefully I will be able to finish Clue in the next couple weeks before I leave again to LA. **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Arthur pulled his car up to the library. He parked slightly crooked and he was barely able to close his door properly. He seemed to have calmed his nerves enough to talk to the woman at the front desk. She smiled pleasantly, her brown hair nicely pinned up with a flower clip.

"Can I help you?"

Arthur nodded. His body was still slightly disheveled still, but he kept eye contact. "Ah," He said making his voice as strong as he could, "Can I have all the newspapers printed from nine months ago until now?"

The woman smiled and handed him a clipboard. "Sure," she said handing a pen over as well, "could you fill this out?"

Arthur numbly nodded. He reached into his pocket to try and find his ID. He began unloading things onto the counter. His keys, the phone, and other random things. His face became hot as he felt tears forming up once again. He started hiccupping in an attempt to quiet himself. His lip shook uncontrollably.

The woman across from him reached her hand out to stop Arthur from taking more things out of his pocket. She paused. "What do you need me to find?"

Arthur looked up at her and quickly whipped his face with the back of his hand. He followed into the back of the library. She moved him quickly to a computer and set up the date he has specified. There was a couple clicking of the keys before she stood up and let Arthur take the seat. He listened to her and he explained how to flip back and forth. He scanned through every date, each picture not what Arthur was looking for.

"I don't understand," he said quietly, "How can it not be here?" He flipped through the papers a second time. "Where is the report on the plane crash?"

The woman looked at him with worries eyes. She was trying her best. "Are you sure you have the right date…?" she question softly.

Arthur shook his head slowly. He stood up just as slowly. He gave the woman a quick thanks and walked briskly out the door. There had to be another person who remembered. He couldn't be alone.

* * *

Arthur rang the doorbell. After a moment of standing outside like a fool he pounded on the door. He couldn't be alone; there had to be someone else who remembered. He knocked on the door harder. It took a moment, but the door finally opened. A man looked a little shocked to see the frantic state in which Arthur was in. Arthur could remember when Alfred first introduced them. He could remember how they're laugh was similar and how they had similar blonde hair, only now this man's hair had grown grey.

"_Arthur, don't look so nervous!" Alfred said as they walked up the step, "you're making me nervous. And these are my parents."_

_Arthur frowned as he straightened his shirt for the third time. _

_Alfred stopped on the top step; not knocking on the door just yet. He turned to Arthur and grabbed his hands. Arthur gave him all his attention when he did that. _

"_You're going to be fine," Alfred said confidently with a smile for bonus. "Do you remember what I told you?"_

_Arthur nodded his head and that's when he noticed Alfred's hands moving. _

'_You can do this.'_

_A man opened the door. His wife stood by his side as he greeted them with a smile. "Well nice to meetcha finally!" he said heartedly. "I'm Alfred Sr." He stretched out his warn out hands to shake Arthur's. "You must be Arthur."_

"_Yes I am," Arthur said more confident then he felt. _

_Alfred's mother smiled from the side. Her black hair tied up in a braid as it extended down to her waist. She didn't say much but she seemed happy non-the-less, just how Alfred described her. Arthur had been practicing this all week just to make the right impression. He bought up his hands and did exactly how Alfred had shown him. _

'_Nice to meet you,' he signed slowly. _

_The woman's eyes light up at this. She smiled and slowly but roughly she let out, "Nice…to …meet... you… too." Her voice was harsh and scratchy but she still got it out. The amount of speak therapy she had been going through must have been long and drawn out. But it was worth it. With the lighthearted tone achieved, Alfred Sr. opened the door for them to come in._

"Can I help you?" he said slowly.

"Are you Mr. Alfred G. Jones?" Arthur said shaking slightly.

The man looked at him with a very confused expression. "Do I know you?"

"Yes," Arthur said chocking back any emotion. "May I… may I speak to you and your wife together?"

The Alfred Sr.'s eyebrows rose. "I suppose," He moved to the side and let Arthur in.

Arthur entered the house. It felt heavy; not like when he had visited with Alfred. Some of the windows were covered with black curtain and as Arthur rounded the corner he came face to face with a little Native American woman. She looked up from her knitting. Her jaw dropped as she made eye contact with the man in front of her. She stuttered and she attempted to stand.

"Ah….A…..A" she kept trying to say until her husband ran into the room and sat her back down.

Arthur sat at the chair closest to the door. He sat on the edge, almost uncomfortably. He rested his hands in his lap.

"So," the man said slowly, testing out the name, "You wanted to speak to us?"

"I wanted to speak to you about your son?" Arthur said carefully.

Alfred Sr. looked disgruntled. "We…" he paused as though he didn't know how phrase it, "… don't… have a son."

Arthur needed to say calm. "I've been here with your son…"he tried again.

The man frowned while his wife looked physically shaken. "There is no son here!" he said more firmly.

Arthur clutched the fabric around his knees. "Yes, there is! His name is Alfred F. Jones Jr.!"

Alfred's mother chocked back a shocked sob.

"My wife… had a stillborn!" he said his mood sour, "She was so devastated we never tried again… we have no son!" Alfred Sr. then stood suddenly.

He practically shoved Arthur out the door. His hands fumbling with the door as it slammed closed. Arthur stood there for a moment in silent shock. His body felt numb. He turned to walk away, when he heard the door burst open a second time. Alfred's mother ran out the door and almost ran in him. She clutched his sweater; her eyes we wide and manic.

"Please… you have… to find… my son!" she whispered harshly, her voice still cracked and barely able to be heard. "You… have to… find Alfred! I know… he's… alive!" Just then her husband came out the door grabbing on her arm. She clutched on Arthur tight and whispered one last thing before getting yanked away and pushed back in to the house.

"Please… find… him."

Arthur's eyes grew huge as he fumbled with his keys in his attempts to put them in his car. He was shaken but in an excited way. He wasn't alone. He wasn't the only one who remembers Alfred. He wasn't crazy. He opened the door and sat in the car. He needed a moment.

Something wasn't adding up. How come he and Alfred's mother remember, but everybody else seemed to think that he never existed.

He made his way back toward his house, but not to go home. It was beginning to reach that time of night. He drove quickly and stopped just as fast as he caught sight of the park. He jumped out of his car as he heard the familiar sound of someone messing around the swings.

He round the monkey bars and his eyes landed on a drunken man, screaming at one of the animals connected to a spring. Arthur tried to catch his breath as he walked over to him. He had realized he had run more than his far share for the day. He sat on the swing, its creaking gaining the attention of his drunken friend.

"Ah!" Francis slurred in drunken realization, "You've come back for more?"

"I'm here every night," Arthur said slowly.

Francis laughed. He stumbled his way over only to trip and land half way in Arthur's lap. It didn't take much to make him roll off and fall in the dirt. Things like this always made Arthur angry with Francis. Arthur felt his nerve reaching its end until he heard quiet sobbing. He pulled Francis up and saw his gritty face and tossed about hair. It was covered in dirt; probably vomit from the way he had been laying, tears leaking heavily from his eyes and a large amount of snot. Arthur felt gross just looking at him.

"It's not fair…"he managed.

Arthur raised a silent eyebrow while trying to get the man standing.

"Why do you get to remember and I don't?" he questioned, dropping his bottle on the ground.

Arthur twisted him around so he could look at him, his eyes wide. "What did you say?" he almost screamed.

"Huh," was the dumbed reply.

"Tell. Me. What. You. Said. You. Ass," Arthur said shaking the man back and forth with a grip on his collar.

Honestly, he should have known better, but the lesson was learned when Francis vomited all over his sweater. Arthur almost gaged as he dropped the man in his hands. Francis rolled on the floor with a thump.

Arthur glared down at the drunken man. This wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.


End file.
